


and it all comes undone

by anbethmarie



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage Proposal, and Anne is getting a taste of her own medicine!, don't worry all will be well in the end, it's going to be a really short & quick one probably like 3 chapters, since i know exactly what i want to happen haha, so there is MORE ANGST coming, update: what I thought could happen is impossible after all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16337210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anbethmarie/pseuds/anbethmarie
Summary: One April evening during their stay at Redmond, Gilbert proposes to Anne. Confused and afraid of change, she rejects him.Two weeks later, during Easter break, Matthew Cuthbert is taken dangerously ill, and Gilbert is the only person Anne can turn to for help.





	1. it must have been good, but I lost it somehow

‘What are you musing about, Anne?’

Anne Shirley, deep in bleak contemplation, looked up with a start and met the earnest, dark gaze of her fellow Redmond student, Gilbert Blythe. He stood in front of her, his hands in his pockets, the curls in his hair outlined against the already fading April sunlight.

She gave him a pale smile.

‘I was wondering what it would take for us to be able to go back to the old carefree Avonlea schooldays,’ she replied, rising from the small bench on which she had been sitting so as not to be made to feel so very small by Gilbert’s tall, broad-shouldered figure.

He shot her an inquiring look. ‘I thought you enjoyed Redmond.’

‘I do,’ replied Anne with a slight shrug of her shoulders. ‘It’s everything I hoped it would be.’

Gilbert studied her profile silently for a moment, wondering what would happen if he just held her dainty face between his hands and kissed every inch of her glowing skin the way he had hungered to do for so long now.

‘Then why look back on the past? It’s here and now that matters,’ he said, digging his hands a little deeper into his pockets.

‘It’s just that I feel I used to spend way too much time running around and too little with Marilla and Matthew. And now I’m here, so far away from home, and every day I feel more and more selfish because of it.’

As she said this, Anne’s voice faltered a little, and Gilbert instinctively came a step closer, reaching out to touch her arm reassuringly.

‘Anne, you know you have nothing to reproach yourself with,’ he said earnestly. ‘Miss and Mr Cuthbert are proud of you, and they would never want you to give up on your dreams.’

She looked up at him with a sour frown. ‘Gilbert, don’t talk to me as though I was a child.’

Gilbert opened his mouth to retort, but Anne, turning swiftly around, had begun to walk, and he settled for falling into step beside her.

‘You know what,’ he said after a small interval of rather strained silence. ‘I think I know just the place to alleviate your homesickness. Are you free on Friday afternoon?’

Anne gave him a suspicious sideways look. ‘I might be. But you have to tell me what you’re planning first.’

‘I’m planning a surprise,’ he replied with mock solemnity.

They had come to the front door of Anne’s boarding house, and she turned round to face him.

‘Gil—‘ she began impatiently, but his boyish grin disarmed her and she ended up letting out a small exasperated laugh.

Gilbert’s smile became wider, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. ‘So, it’s settled? I’ll come pick you up on Friday at five?’

Anne gave a little nod of agreement. ‘If I were you I’d hope I’ll like that place, whatever it is. I’m not in the mood for disappointments just now.’

‘You’ll like it all right. I know you rather well, Anne Shirley.’ As he said this, Gilbert put his hand up to her cheek. As his fingers skimmed her skin, Anne’s eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat.

‘An eyelash,’ Gilbert said matter-of-factly, staring unblinkingly into her eyes. ‘Make a wish.’

Dropping her gaze to the palm that he was holding upturned on a level with her lips, Anne blew softly on the tiny brown eyelash. The feeling of her breath on his skin made Gilbert’s whole body freeze immobile for the moment.

‘What did you wish for?’ he asked quietly.

Anne’s eyes flickered back to his, and she remembered they were out in the street, in full sight of anyone who might happen to pass.

‘If I told you, it would never come true,’ she said with a nervous little laugh, stepping away abruptly.

Gilbert hand fell to his side. He gave her a crooked, somewhat absent smile, but there was a furrow between his eyebrows that made him appear - annoyed? angry? Anne hardly knew, and somehow she could not bring herself to look straight at him for long enough to determine.

‘Until Friday, then?’ she asked, putting a hand up to smooth her hair and also screen her flushed face from his gaze.

‘Yeah, of course.’ His voice was casual.

With a small nod, Anne turned around and entered the house.

***

‘I see the storm has passed over,’ remarked Gilbert as Anne run down the steps, her serene face and shining eyes a marked contrast to the grimness of two days before.

She gave him an arch look. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘All right, neither do I, then,’ he smirked. ‘I’m just glad I don’t have to be on the lookout for slates today.’

Anne rolled her eyes. ‘So, you wanted to show me some special place?’

‘Yeah.’ Gilbert tugged at her elbow gently, steering her in the direction of the nearby park.

‘The park? I’ve been there at least once every day since we started college,’ said Anne sceptically.

‘You underestimate me, as always,’ replied Gilbert imperturbably. ‘But I’ll surprise you yet, Anne Shirley. You’ll be sorry for your scoffing ways.’

‘Scoffing? I’m never scoffing,’ she countered a bit hotly.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘ _You_ are not scoffing, Queen Anne? You’re so haughty sometimes that if I hadn’t known you since we were children I’d probably have genuine trouble getting up the courage to speak to you.’

‘Really, Gil? Do I really come across like that?’ Anne’s voice became uneasy. ‘I swear I never mean to, I—‘ She broke off, noticing the amused twinkle in Gilbert’s eyes. ‘Gilbert Blythe, you’re not funny!’ she said indignantly, swatting his arm.

‘I wasn’t trying to be funny,’ he replied, smirking. ‘Well, maybe a little—‘

‘You _are_ lucky I’m in a good mood today,’ Anne said tersely, crossing her arms and unconsciously tilting her chin up a little bit.

‘There she goes—‘ chuckled Gilbert quietly. ‘Are you balancing something on the tip of that exquisite nose of yours, Queen Anne?’

Anne had meant to give him a black look, but upon meeting his eyes she let out a small, exasperated laugh. It was so nice and easy being with Gilbert like this, bickering and teasing each other like the old chums they were, without any unnecessary, disturbing scenes of the kind that had occurred between them two days before.

The truth was that Anne had lain awake half the night thinking about the thrill that had gone through her when Gilbert’s fingers touched her cheek, and the magnetic way in which his eyes had seemed to pull her in. And she very much wished to avoid the repetition of such unsettling, potentially romantical moments.

There was nothing romantical about Gilbert anyway. He was all common sense and solidity. As he walked beside her now, dressed in a light-blue shirt and a brown vest, his dark curly hair mussed up by the wind, he looked the embodiment of warmth and home and the Avonlea woods and all the things Anne loved best – in a metaphorical sense, naturally.

‘Well, here were are,’ he said, making Anne snap out of her reverie with a start.

They had crossed the park and found themselves at some remote corner of it, unfrequented and ill-kept.

‘I can’t really say I’m swept off my feet, however haughty that may sound,’ said Anne, looking round sceptically. ‘I have no idea why you thought this would cure my homesickness, unless it’s supposed to remind me of the state of Marilla’s vegetable garden when I haven’t had time to weed it properly.’

Gilbert smirked, undaunted. ‘Whatever you say, your highness. May I humbly ask you to step in here—‘ He approached a tangle of bushes to their right, holding their branches apart to make a passageway.

‘You should have told me your plan was to get me all covered in dead leaves and cobwebs,’ said Anne complainingly as she held her skirts tightly around her legs, trying to pass through the narrow opening. ‘I would have worn a— Oh!’

She stumbled forward into a bower-like garden, abandoned and neglected but nonetheless charming.

‘Gil, this is just like Hester Gray’s garden at home!’ Anne exclaimed joyously, clasping her hands together and looking round with wonderstruck eyes. ‘How ever did you manage to find it?’

‘He that seeketh, findeth,’ replied Gilbert, a self-satisfied note in his voice. ‘So, you do like my surprise after all?’

Anne turned round to face him. The evening light playing in her auburn hair turned it to copper gold, and her radiant beauty momentarily knocked the air clear out of his lungs.

‘Like it? I _adore_ it, Gil,’ she said eagerly, her cheeks flushing with excitement. ‘Oh, this is positively magical. It’s a fragment of home transported all the way here.’

She strayed towards one of the overgrown rose bushes, while Gilbert seated himself on a somewhat dilapidated rustic bench nearby. He kept his eyes fixed on Anne’s lightly stepping figure as she wandered around the garden, humming a small tune to herself and picking a flower here and there.

Eventually, she seated herself beside him, beginning immediately to weave the flowers she had gathered into a crown.

‘A diadem for the queen?’ he taunted, and Anne smiled a little wider without looking up.

‘Tease all you like, you won’t succeed in annoying me,’ she said calmly, intent on her work. ‘Not after you’ve given me this beautiful place.’

‘Well, I certainly wish I could give it to you, Anne,’ Gilbert replied a little absently, thinking that he would like to be able to give her the whole world and more. ‘But I’m afraid it’s the property of the municipality.’

Anne looked up with raised eyebrows, intending to criticise his lack of imagination, but when her eyes met his she forgot what she had meant to say. Blinking rapidly, she dropped her gaze back to the flowers in her lap.

She could feel Gilbert watching her, and suddenly the bench they were seated on didn't seem to have enough room for two people to sit at a comfortable distance from each other.

Having finished her work with a few swift, deft motions, Anne looked up again, striving to keep her expression nonchalant.

Gilbert’s eyes were very dark, his face tense.

‘Well, does it look royal enough?’ she asked, gingerly placing the flower crown on her hair. She didn’t really know what she was saying; she felt completely unnerved by Gilbert’s proximity and the way his strangely intense gaze didn’t for a moment leave her face.

Reaching out a hand, Gilbert adjusted the crown an inch or two. ‘It was just a little crooked,’ he said, his voice low and vibrant. ‘It’s perfect now.’ His fingers slid down along her temple to her cheek.

‘Is it?’ Anne breathed, her eyes wide and starry as she looked up at him, his face mere centimetres away from hers. When had he got so close?

‘Yes,’ Gilbert's gaze dropped to her mouth, and he gulped. ‘Yes, Anne.’

His fingers slid down to cup her chin, and, gently, he titled her face up, bending down to press his lips to hers.

Anne’s body seemed to disconnect itself from her brain. Against all her better judgement, her hands went up to clutch at Gilbert’s arms as she pressed herself closer to him. His lips began to work more urgently against hers, and she uttered a soft gasp. Gilbert’s other hand was pressed firmly against her back, and she leant into it as she tugged at his shirt, trying to make him deepen the kiss.

The flower crown slipped from her hair and, with a quiet thud, fell to the ground. Anne’s eyes snapped open.

‘Gil,’ she breathed, wrenching her lips away.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, Anne’s eyes wide and startled and Gilbert’s hazy and unfocused.

‘Anne—‘

The sound of her name spoken like that made her push him away abruptly as she jumped to her feet, pressing her fingers to her lips.

‘Anne, please listen to me,’ he pleaded, getting up as well and reaching out to take her hand in his. ‘Please—‘

‘No, Gil, don’t!’ Anne cried rather wildly, her fingers curling convulsively round his. ‘You’re going to spoil everything. Please, let’s just pretend none of this ever happened.’

Gilbert gave her a look of utter incredulity. ‘Pretend it never happened? Why should we? Anne, I love you.’ He took a step closer, his eyes intense. ‘I’m certain you know that.’

Shaking her head, Anne tried unsuccessfully to free her hand from his grasp. ‘You’re just imagining it, Gil. It’s all a mistake—‘

‘A mistake?’ he interrupted, his face getting tense. ‘I’ve loved you for so long now I can’t even remember the time when I didn’t. Anne,’ he went on in a gentler tone, cupping one of her cheeks in his free hand. ‘I love you, and I can never love anyone else but you. I know that what happened just now was rather sudden, but I promise I’ll wait until you’re ready—‘

‘I’ll never be ready for – for _this_!’ Anne had ceased to struggle and simply stood there, tears of anger and confusion gathering in her eyes.

Gilbert froze. ‘Never?’ he repeated, his voice dull. ‘You don’t care for me at all, then?’

‘Of course I do!’ she whimpered helplessly, frightened by the pallor of his face and the deadened expression of his eyes. ‘You are my favourite person in the whole world, Gil. You’ll always be my very best friend. But I never could— I never could,’ she swallowed back the tears that choke her. ‘Oh, Gil, why did you have to go and ruin everything? Why couldn’t you just leave well alone?’

‘Why?’ Gilbert asked with a bitterness that made her wince. He let go of her, reaching up to run his hands frantically over his face and through his hair. ‘Why? Anne, can’t you see I’m crazy about you? I can’t go on pretending I’m satisfied with your friendship – I want more – so much more – I want you, and only you!’

The raw emotion that was reflected in his eyes and voice as he said this made Anne take a step back. Was this really Gilbert, her old childhood friend? This man who looked at her as though he could see to the very core of her being, making her feel that the only place she wanted to be was in his arms, with his hard, warm body pressed flush against hers the way it had been just moments before—

These were frightening, incomprehensible thoughts, and they caused Anne’s tears to flow more rapidly.

‘Gilbert, I’m truly sorry,’ she stuttered, looking away from his harrowing face. ‘But I mean every word I’ve said. I can never give you what – what you’re asking for. I hope that as soon as – as you calm down a bit, you’ll see that I am right, and that you never—‘

The short, sharp laugh which he uttered at those words made Anne raise her head again. To her relief, Gilbert’s eyes were no longer as terrifyingly hungry and desperate as a moment before.

‘For God’s sake, Anne, don’t say anything more,’ he said, looking away from her for the first time. ‘I understand. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. But I’m not sorry I’ve told you I love you. It feels good to at least know where I stand.’

Somehow, this quiet resignation made Anne feel even worse than his previous vehemence.

‘Gilbert, please say you forgive me,’ she pleaded, choking on her sobs. ‘I never wanted to cause you pain.’

By now, his face had become an inscrutable mask. ‘There isn’t anything to forgive,’ he said dully, stepping in the direction of the shrubs through which they had entered. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you home.’

‘You don’t have to,’ said Anne, pressing past him and through the bushes he was holding apart for her as quickly as possible.

‘Yes, I do. It’s getting dark,’ was his dry, decisive answer.

They returned in silence that was more agonising than anything Anne had ever experienced before. With every step, she felt more and more like the right thing to do would have been to throw herself into Gilbert’s arms and let him do whatever he chose with the fact that she surrendered herself to him completely. And yet, a small, nagging voice in her brain kept saying that it was all a mere illusion on Gilbert’s part, and that she herself would be a fool to place her happiness so completely in another person’s hands when it was certain to end in disappointment and suffering.

When they had come within sight of the boarding house, Anne turned round and, addressing Gilbert’s collar, begun quietly,

‘Gilbert, I truly never meant to—‘

‘Goodnight, Anne,’ he said with a curt nod, turning away. He didn’t think he could stand there and listen to her assure him again what a dear friend he was to her. He had already heard enough to suffice to haunt him a lifetime, anyway.

As for Anne, she had barely managed to make it upstairs to her room before she collapsed on the bed, shaken with uncontrollable sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay guys so first of all I AM working on all the other works I've started - sooner or later, there'll come an update, so hang in there!
> 
> second of all, this particular fic was inspired by THIS wonderful piece of fanart: http://chyoonah.tumblr.com/post/177646524554/i-swear-i-hate-roy-just-wanted-to-draw-anne 
> 
> (this is EXACTLY what Gil looks like in here in case you wanted to know :D)


	2. in and outside I turn to water // like a teardrop in your palm

‘Anne, wake up! Anne!’

Marilla’s face, distraught and deadly pale in the light of the candle she carried, swam into Anne’s blurry view.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ she asked, sitting up and trying to gather her wits.

‘It’s Matthew. He’s— he’s in a terrible way, Anne. You have to run ask Rachel Lynde to send her stable boy for the doctor.’

Her heart in her throat, Anne struggled out of bed. ‘I’ll go get Gilbert as well. He’ll know—he’ll know how to help.’

She stumbled down the stairs, dimly hearing Marilla call out to her to be careful. In a few moments, having put her boots and coat on haphazardly, she was out in the cool mid-April night.

Mrs Lynde opened the door with an alacrity that showed her to have not been asleep.

‘Anne!’ she exclaimed at the sight of the girl. ‘I’ve seen the light in your windows. Is it Matthew?’

‘Yes, Mrs Lynde. We need you to get your boy to fetch the doctor from Charlottetown.’

‘I’m going right now— But, Anne, it’ll be at least two hours before he gets here.’

‘I know,’ said Anne miserably. ‘I’m going to fetch Gilbert Blythe. He might be able to help.’

‘So, God help him, he might. Hurry on, child, and I’ll go join Marilla as soon as I’ve sent Roger on his way.’

When Anne finally reached Gilbert’s front door, her nerves were strung so high it seemed to her it was hours before she finally heard footsteps coming along the passage in answer to her frantic summons.

At the sight of Gilbert, she fairly collapsed with relief.

‘Anne?’ He stared, bewildered.

‘Gilbert, you have to come with me,’ she gasped, clutching at the doorframe for support. ‘It’s Matthew. He’s—he’s—’

Without waiting for her to finish, Gilbert turned round, threw on his boots and coat, and was out of the house in a flash.

‘Come on,’ he said, taking the lantern she was carrying out of Anne’s hand and setting out at a quick pace in the direction of the stables.

There arrived at Green Gables in no time, and as Gilbert helped her down from the saddle such an overwhelming wave of fear as to what awaited her inside washed over Anne that knees buckled under her.

‘Anne,’ said Gilbert quietly, putting his arm around her to help her keep upright. ‘Anne, I’m here. Right beside you.’

He had meant to say it was going to be all right, but the words simply wouldn’t come out. Instead, he tightened his hold on her waist, and gently but firmly led her towards the house.

It was extremely silent when they entered, and Anne involuntarily clenched her teeth so tight it hurt. She dropped the lantern onto the floor and, vaguely aware of Gilbert’s presence right behind her, dragged herself upstairs.

When she entered Matthew’s bedroom, the first thing she saw was Marilla sitting immobile by the head of her brother’s bed. The face which Mrs Lynde turned towards her told her everything, and through the buzzing in her ears she heard her say:

‘He’s gone, Anne. He was already dead when I arrived.’

Anne’s vision went white, and she fainted.

It only lasted a few moments, and when presently she regained consciousness she found herself in her own room, lying in bed with her head propped up against the pillows. Gilbert was sitting on a chair by her side, his face hidden in his hands.

Her mind and body felt frozen numb, and she just sat there looking at him until, with a deep sigh, he raised his head.

‘Anne,’ he said hoarsely, sitting up straight. ‘I’ll go call Mrs Lynde.’

‘No, no! Please, don’t,’ she cried feverishly, clutching at his hand to stop him from rising.

‘Anne,’ he began cautiously, giving her cold fingers a gentle squeeze. ‘It’s the middle of the night. Tomorrow, there’ll be time for—for dealing with all the inevitable things. Right now, you just need to get at least a little sleep.’

‘I will.’ Anne felt like she would go crazy if Gilbert left. It seemed to her that he was the last thing anchoring her to the earth and to sanity. ‘I will, Gilbert. I will do anything you say, just don’t leave me. Please, don’t.’

He studied her face uneasily for a moment. ‘All right then, I’ll just go tell Mrs Lynde you’ve come to. She’s worried about you.’

Anne nodded, and he withdrew his fingers from her grasp and went quickly out of the room.

When he came back, Anne was lying with the covers drawn up to her chin, staring in front of her with glassy, unblinking eyes. Gilbert grabbed the chair on which he had been sitting and drew it a little away from the bed so as not to invade her space quite so obnoxiously.

‘Do you want me to leave the candles lit?’ he asked quietly.

‘No.’ Her eyes flickered for a second to his face. ‘But you will stay with me? Please,’ she said, her voice faltering. ‘I’m sorry, I know I have no right to ask you this, but I just couldn’t stand to be alone in here right now.’

‘It’s all right,’ Gilbert strove to keep his voice level. ‘I understand. I swear I won’t leave. If you need anything, I’ll be right here.’

Anne gave a small nod of assent and closed her eyes. Gilbert blew out the candles and threw himself down into the chair. In the pale light of the moon that got into the room through the thin curtains, he could see Anne’s still, huddled-up body outlined under the covers.

Anne herself had been certain she would stay awake, but the regular, calming sound of Gilbert’s breathing a mere few feet away from where she lay soon lulled her to sleep.

***

Anne slept fretfully, tossing and turning without a moment’s respite, and it caused Gilbert pang after pang of pain to see her suffer right in front of him and be unable to do anything to help her.

Finally, after about two hours had come and gone and Gilbert heard the Charlottetown doctor arrive and then Mrs Lynde gently lead Marilla to her own bedroom, Anne sat bolt upright in her bed with a horrified, shrill scream.

He rushed to her side, putting his arm around her hunched-up shoulders, which were shaken with violent sobs.

‘Anne,’ he whispered as she leant into him, clutching blindly at his shirt.

‘I saw his face,’ she mumbled chokingly against his chest. ‘His dear, dear face– But it was dead, and it wasn’t his at all! It was staring at me with those terrible unseeing eyes. But it wasn’t – it wasn’t—‘

‘Shhh,’ Gilbert stroked her hair, her back, holding her tight in an attempt to stop her from trembling so much. ‘I’m here, Anne. You don’t have to be afraid.’

‘He’s dead, Matthew’s dead,’ she repeated like some awful litany. ‘He’s dead, Gilbert. Nothing can ever be well again.’

‘It will,’ he whispered into her hair, trying to sound like he meant it. ‘I promise you it will. It will be different, and it will hurt like hell, but it will be all right in the end.’

‘He was the first person who ever loved me.’ Anne raised her face and Gilbert saw it glisten with tears in the pale moonlight. ‘No one ever had until he did. Even when I was a total disappointment, he still loved me. He called me his daughter.’

‘You were the best daughter he could ever have wished for,’ said Gilbert earnestly. ‘And his love will always be with you, Anne. You’ll always carry it within you.’

‘But— but I can’t see anything except his dead face when I close my eyes now,’ she put in with a note of hysteria in her voice. ‘Why, Gilbert? I wish I had never seen it. It isn’t Matthew. It’s some terrible, hollow thing that has taken his place.’

‘Don’t dwell on this right now, Anne,’ he replied helplessly, trying to make her lie back down. ‘Just try to get back to sleep. If you want to, I can go ask Mrs Lynde for some sleeping draught—’

‘No, don’t!’ she protested even more frantically than before. ‘I don’t want any drugs. I’m so afraid I’ll see it again, and not be able to wake up.’ She started crying more violently, both her hands closing convulsively around one of his.

It broke Gilbert’s heart to see her like this – Anne, the person who had more life and light in her than anyone else he’d ever met.

‘Then what _can_ I do, Anne?’ he asked, brushing her hair away from her face with his free hand.

‘Could you just hold me?’ she pleaded quietly, looking at him with wide, shining eyes, her whole face trembling. ‘I’m so terribly cold. I feel like I’m dead myself.’

Gilbert hesitated, but it lasted only the fraction of a second. There was no way he could refuse her anything that might bring her a little relief when she was in this tormented state.

‘Move back a little, Anne,’ he said gently. She did so, and he tucked the covers tightly around her shivering body. Then he lay down next to her, gingerly wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

Anne immediately scooted closer, nestling her face in the crook of his shoulder and tucking her hands against his chest. She was incapable of considering the thousand improprieties implicit in their situation – all she wanted was to be able to feel Gilbert’s warmth, to breathe in his scent and to listen to the sound of his heartbeat. It seemed to her that her only hope of surviving this terrible night lay in being close to him.

As for Gilbert, even though he had liked and respected Matthew Cuthbert a great deal, his head was obviously much clearer than Anne’s, and he could not stop himself from thinking about how wrong all this was. A mere fourteen days before Anne had told him she could never love him, and now here he was, lying on her bed with her body pressed against his, the only barrier between them the covers into which she was wrapped.

It wrenched his heart with grief to know that the only reason he got to experience the feeling of holding Anne like this was because the person she considered her father had died, and she sought some shred of comfort in the closeness of another human being.

***

When Anne woke up she at first only dimly realised than something was not quite as it ought to be; her dominant sensation was that of warmth and security.

Then she remembered: Matthew was dead. She had to get up and go face the first day of living in a world without him.

With a sharp intake of breath, she opened her eyes. She had meant to roll over onto the other side, but then, and it seemed to her ridiculous that it was only then, she realised that she couldn’t.

Because Gilbert Blythe was lying right behind her, his chest pressed to her back and his arm wrapped around her hip. She recalled dimly that when he had first lain down next to her he had been atop the covers: but this was no longer the case. They were literally skin to skin now, their legs tangled together, the thin fabric of her nightgown and his shirt and trousers all that separated them.

‘Gilbert, wake up,’ she said in a rusty voice. Her throat felt sore from all the crying she had done.

To her mortification, all he did was tighten his hold on her waist and bury his face deeper in her hair.

His dreams about waking up next to Anne had never been quite so vivid before; he could swear he could actually feel the warmth and softness of her body as he lay pressed against it.

‘Gilbert,’ she said again, trying to pry his fingers away from the fabric of her nightgown.

This was definitely _not_ the tone in which Anne usually addressed him in his visions of her, and it made Gilbert’s eyes snap open.

All in a flash, he remembered what had come to pass the night before, realising at the same time that by some inexplicable means he was no longer separated from Anne by the covers; instead, their bodies were flush against each other.

In her bedroom. In her bed. With her dressed only in a thin cotton nightgown.

He backed away from her, almost falling down to the floor.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, getting up and holding onto the nearby dresser for support. ‘I never meant to actually fall asleep. I—‘

He paused as she turned her face towards him. It was pale and ravaged, and it suddenly brought home to him the reason why they had found themselves in this situation in the first place. It was not about him at all: it was about Anne and her need for comfort. All she had wanted was another body next to hers: that it had happened to be his, Gilbert Blythe’s, was only one of the wanton cruelties of fate.

‘Don’t worry, Gil.’ Anne pulled the sheets up to her chin and looked away from him. ‘It’s I who should apologise. I had no right to take advantage of your pity like this.’

Pity? Did she really think that he had done what he had out of _pity_?

‘It’s all right,’ he replied dully. ‘I’ll go home and change, and then I’ll come back—’

‘You don’t have to,’ put in Anne, feeling certain that if Gilbert replied that if so he would not return she would not be able to get through the day.

‘Do you want me to?’ he asked simply.

‘Yes,’ she replied just as directly, meeting his eyes.

‘Then I will. I promise I won’t be long.’

With that, he was out of the door.


	3. what you break is what you get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what I thought was going to happen in this chapter (a reconciliation and a happy ever after) just WOULDN'T happen.  
> I've tried writing it I don't know how many times, and it simply wouldn't come off.  
> And today I went like, 'but what if THIS happened instead?'  
> And it did

‘Now I understand why you went away,’ said Anne in a thoughtful tone.

Gilbert looked up from the handbook he had been reading, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. ‘Went away?’ he repeated. ‘What do you mean?’

Anne gave an impatient sigh. ‘After your father’s death.’

His frown deepening, Gilbert tossed the book aside and got up from the bench, walking over to where Anne was seated with her back against a tree.

To all outward appearances, they had more or less settled back into the familiar ruts of the friendship which had bound them together for nearly eight years now: Gilbert had not been absent from Anne’s side a minute more than could be helped during the two days preceding Matthew’s funeral, and she had not been able to bring herself to let go of his hand during the service, heedless of the meaningful glances thrown their way. In the week and a half which followed, they had spent almost every afternoon studying together in the way they had done on and off ever since the days of preparing for Queen’s entrance exams.

In both their minds, however, there was a vivid remembrance of what had passed between them less than a month ago in the Redmond park, and it brought about a constant element of self-consciousness which rendered the other’s presence a strain on each one’s nerves.

 ‘I didn’t understand before,’ Anne went on, pulling her knees up to her chin. ‘I certainly couldn’t understand at the time. I was so, so terrified when I went over to your house and found it all shut up. I thought I’d never see you again. Just think about it—‘ she lifted her eyes to his, ‘if you hadn’t seen me through that pawnbroker’s shop window, we wouldn’t have seen each other before you sailed. I wouldn’t have had the chance to apologise. And anything might have happened – you might never have come back—‘

She stopped, trying to force down the tears that were threatening to rise up from her throat in a violent sob.

Gilbert sat down beside her, trying to peer into her averted face. ‘Of course I would have come back, Anne. And it’s not like our quarrels were the reason I’d decided to go away in the first place. At least, not the main one,’ he quipped lamely.

Anne gave a dismissive snort. They stayed silent for a few moments, and then she spoke again, her voice somewhat tremulous,

‘ _Why_ did you come back, Gil?’

Gilbert blinked rapidly. ‘What do you mean, why? I’d always meant to come back someday.’

‘Someday, yes,’ she shot back. ‘But not so soon. When you wrote to me from Trinidad, you said you were going to stay away indefinitely.’

Gilbert, who had merely written the letter and not learnt it by heart through constant re-reading the way Anne had, raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘I said that?’

Anne rolled her eyes. ‘And to think I spent nights crying my heart out over it.’

‘You aren’t serious now,’ he said with an uncertain chuckle.

‘Disappointed?’ she countered with a small smile. ‘You’d like to think I counted down the days until your glorious return, wouldn’t you? How like a man to want every girl to play the Penelope to his Ulysses.’

This was the first time Anne sounded and looked genuinely amused since Matthew’s death, and instead of contradicting her Gilbert simply drank in the sight of the smile he had grown to adore so much over the years.

‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ she said eventually, breaking the silence. ‘I understand why you went away, because there are moments when it seems to me I’ll go crazy here, with everything reminding me of him—‘ she looked away and swallowed hard. ‘But why did you come back? You’re a boy, which means you could have gone anywhere and done anything you wanted.’

‘I _did_ do what I wanted,’ he said evasively. ‘I came back here.’

‘Exactly.’ Anne gave him a sharper look. ‘Why?’

Gilbert’s thoughtful eyes scanned her face for a moment. ‘Because I realised I was never going to find what I’d been searching for anywhere else, no matter how many exotic places I were to visit.’

‘You mean, home?’ she asked, looking away.

She heard Gilbert heave a deep sigh. ‘Yeah. Exactly. Home.’

After another moment of silence, Anne shifted her position so that she was kneeling on the ground facing him directly.

‘Gilbert,’ she said, holding his gaze despite the fact that her cheeks felt like they were on fire. ‘I want you to know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me during these past two weeks.’

‘There isn’t anything to be grateful for,’ he replied promptly, trying to keep his voice level.

Anne frowned with annoyance. ‘Gilbert, please don’t make light of this. If I didn’t go straight out of my mind that first night—‘ she looked away, flushing even deeper. ‘It was only because you were with me. And I realise you had a full right to leave—‘

‘Anne, _don’t_ ,’ Gilbert interrupted in a stern voice. ‘Please, just don’t. We’ve been friends for years. I haven’t done anything that could not reasonably be expected of a friend in a situation of this kind.’

‘Not done anything—‘ She stared at him speechlessly for a moment, her eyes wide. ‘Of course.’ She got up hastily, dusting off her skirts. ‘Well, I just want you to know I’ll—I’ll never forget your kindness. I’ve got to go now,’ she added, turning her back on him. ‘I haven’t even began packing up yet. I’ll see you around.’

‘Anne, wait!’ he scrambled hastily to his feet, looking round frantically in an attempt to locate and collect all the things they had strewn about.

She was heedless of his request, moving away at a brisk pace.

 

***

 

‘You’ve left your hat behind.’

He found her in Hester Gray’s garden – somehow, he had been certain he’d find her there.

Anne started when she heard his voice, but continued to sit immobile and silent, her back turned towards him.

‘All ready for tomorrow’s departure?’ Gilbert ploughed on, cursing himself for asking such an inane question. Of course she wasn’t ready. She had terrible qualms about leaving Marilla on her own: he didn’t need to ask to know that.

No response came, and, feeling rather as though he was putting his neck out on the line, Gilbert resorted to the somewhat desperate measure of touching Anne’s shoulder in an attempt to make her look at him.

‘Just put the damn hat down and go away, for God’s sake!’ she snapped, hiding her face in her hands.

She heard him take in a sharper breath, and then the hat was laid down softly on the bench by her side. Next came the sound of quickly retreating footsteps.

A wave of desperation surged within Anne.

‘No, Gil, wait!’ she cried, leaping up with outstretched hands, fully alive to the ridiculousness of her actions but incapable, for the moment, of getting a grip on her emotions.

Gilbert turned round slowly with the look of utter bewilderment on his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Anne, her hands dropping to her sides. ‘I didn’t mean to be so rude. It’s just that—‘ she swallowed, and then shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s all rather a mess.’

His face drawn into an anxious frown, Gilbert came back up to her.

‘It must be hard on you, leaving Marilla so soon—‘ he trailed off, putting his hands in his pockets and clenching his jaw.

Anne sighed, dropping back down onto the stone seat and propping her chin on her hand. ‘It _is_ hard – but I can’t help feeling sometimes that Mrs Lynde’s company will be of more use to Marilla just now than mine. I can’t seem to be able to pull myself together, somehow.’

‘That’s not true, Anne,’ countered Gilbert earnestly, sitting down beside her. ‘You’ve been braver than anyone could expect. And anyway, you are entitled to take your time and mourn Matthew just as much as anyone else.’

‘Thank you for saying that,’ she said quietly, looking up.

‘Don’t thank me, Anne; just believe it. You’re being way too hard on yourself. As usual.’ Gilbert attempted a smirk as he said this, but his eyes remained concerned.

She gave a small dismissive sniff. ‘It’s always worked well for me. If nothing else, I’ve been able to keep up with you academically.’

‘We’ve rather goaded each other on, haven’t we? And look at us now,’ he teased, bumping her shoulder playfully. ‘Well on our way to being at the top of our university class. However unwilling you might have been to enter into this friendship, you must admit that it has paid off.’

Anne remained silent, looking down at the incipient green of the young grass under her feet.

‘Thank you for staying,’ she said eventually, keeping her gaze averted. ‘Now and. . . earlier.’

‘Well, what else are friends for?’ Gilbert replied with apparent light-heartedness.

_There_ he went again, playing pretend that that awful conversation in the Redmond park had never happened. Anne’s heart gave a painful lurch. Had she, in her purblind stubbornness, spoiled everything?

‘Gilbert,’ she began, forcing herself to raise her eyes to his. ‘Do you remember what we talked about yesterday? How we might not have met before you sailed away?’

‘Yeah,’ he replied, frowning slightly. ‘But I don’t really think that’s something you should dwell on right now, Anne. It’s water under the bridge. It’s—‘

‘No, it isn’t,’ interrupted Anne. ‘That’s the point. It isn’t.’

‘It . . . isn’t?’ repeated Gilbert uncertainly.

Anne heaved a deep sigh and, clenching her fists in an attempt to remain collected, went on, ‘No, Gil. Because, you see, I don’t want to lose you again.’

‘Lose me?’ His voice was strained.

‘I didn’t realise until—until Matthew’s death just how much—‘ she gulped, dragging her fingers agitatedly through her hair. ‘Just how much I need you.’

‘Anne, I told you that night. I’m always going to be there for you.’

‘As my friend?’

He shot her a sharp glance. ‘Anne, I’m not sure what you are driving at.’

Anne felt rather desperate.

‘Don’t you see Gil,’ she said, her voice on the verge of breaking. ‘We were just kids then. Especially me. But still, I should have known better. I should have told you-‘

His eyes scanning her face in anxious bewilderment, Gilbert opened his mouth to speak, but she held her hand up to stop him from interrupting.

‘No, Gil, please let me finish. What Matthew’s death made me realise is that we never know when we’re seeing someone for the last time. And just imagine if - if -‘ she put her face in her hands, unable to withstand his penetrating stare. ‘If something happened to you after that afternoon in the park.’

She paused, biting her lip in a futile attempt to stop it from trembling. There was a moment of excruciating silence, and then she felt warmth of Gilbert’s hand on her arm.

‘Anne, look at me,’ he asked quietly.

When this elicited no response, he moved to crouch down in front of her and closed his fingers around her wrists, gently drawing her hands away from her face.

‘Anne,’ he said slowly, deliberately, looking at her with his steady, earnest eyes. ‘I don’t want you to beat yourself up over what happened that day. It was all my fault, anyway. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.’

‘No!’ cried Anne feverishly, wrenching her hands away and springing up. ‘I _won’t_ let you do this again, Gil! You _can’t_ just go on forgiving all the terrible things I do to you!’ She whirled round to face him, pressing her palms to her temples. ‘Gilbert, I should have learnt my lesson that first time I let you go away without telling you how much you really mean to me. But I didn’t. And now--‘

She looked him directly in the eyes.

‘Gilbert, what I want you to know is this: I loved Matthew with all my heart, and losing him hurts, but I know life will go on somehow. But if I were ever to lose you--’ she let out a small, nervous, almost hysterical half-laugh. ‘I can’t even try to imagine a life without you, Gil.’

‘Anne,’ he interrupted, his face drawn and inscrutable. ‘I must ask you not to. . . not to say anything you don’t really mean. I know you’re hurting and looking for someone to hold onto, but I don’t want you to say things you’re going wish to take back in the future. And I swear to you I’ll always be your friend--‘

The moment she heard him utter that word yet again, something within Anne seemed to snap and, putting her hands up to her hair in a distraught gesture, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, for heaven’s _sake,_ stop saying that!’

This rather violent reaction made Gilbert stare at her in mute bewilderment. After a few moments of silence, Anne took her hands away from her face and let her eyes meet his.

‘Don’t look like this, Gil,’ she said with a rueful little smile. ‘I am not out of mind. Or perhaps I am. I hardly know anymore.’ She took a step towards him, chewing on her lower lip anxiously. ‘Gilbert, I know I have no right to demand anything from you after the way I’ve treated you, but I want you to know how much I wish I could go back to that afternoon at Redmond and take back everything I said. None of it was true. I was just scared, and. . .’

Her eyes moved frantically over his face, which, for the moment, showed no emotion whatever. He returned her gaze levelly, unfathomably, and it seemed to her all her words were glancing off some invisible wall.

‘Gil, please,’ she repeated pleadingly, ineffectually.

When still he didn’t flinch, and the tears that had been gathering in Anne’s throat threatened to finally overflow, she turned on her heel and began to walk away, dragging one foot after the other.

Part of her believed he would still come after her, or at least call out to stop her.

But he didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did I just write a scene in which Gilbert refuses to accept an "I love you" from his own personal goddess, Anne Shirley?  
> what has fanfiction done to me???


	4. distance, timing, breakdown, fighting // silence // this train runs off its tracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay, so I know I said I had no time for writing and it IS true  
> but I got the idea for this chapter yesterday (after watching the newest episode of everyone's favourite Polish soap opera lol)  
> and it kinda DEMANDED to be written
> 
> I'm sorry for everything that happens here I truly am guys

The next two months at Redmond confirmed all Gilbert’s worst premonitions.

Anne was not so much avoiding him as simply getting so caught up in the company of other people that it was only by accident and for short snatches of time that they met. He tried to convince himself that he was happy to see Anne enjoy herself rather than indulge in melancholy broodings, but there was a feverishness about her whole person and all her actions that made him want to shake her up and out of what seemed almost like a self-induced trance. However, the one time he tried to actually tackle her on the subject, she responded with such chilliness he dared not try again.

On a Friday afternoon in the later part of May, Gilbert stumbled across Anne’s notebook hidden in the middle of a desk-high pile of his own handbooks. It was full of definitions of obscure literary terms, and, realising that Anne would probably have missed it already, Gilbert decided to go over to her flat and return it. He would not make it awkward for her, he told himself firmly; he would simply hand the notebook over, wish her luck with revising, and take his leave.

There was no response to his first knock at her front door and he tried again, louder.

There was the muffled sound of a scuffle, and then footsteps, far too heavy and slow to be Anne’s, approached the door.

It opened to reveal the face of Royal Gardner. Gilbert knew him by sight and reputation, and had once or twice seen Anne and her friends in his company. However, there had been no signs of particular intimacy between the two of them, and to see him answering her door came to Gilbert as an unpleasant surprise.

Gardner looked him up and down with an impatient frown. ‘Yes?’ he asked in a supercilious voice, with an unnerving manner of one feeling entirely at home.

‘Is Anne here?’ countered Gilbert sharply, fighting the urge to simply push past the other man into the hall.

‘She’s not receiving visitors at the moment,’ replied Roy brazenly. Then, an almost openly lascivious little smirk tugging at his lips, he added, ‘Apart from me, that is. So if you please, be so good as to make your appearance at some other, less inopportune--‘

With an impatient movement of barely controlled anger, Gilbert pushed Gardner out of the way and went on down the hall in the direction of the small drawing-room at the end of it from behind the ajar door of which diffused yellow light was streaming, his heart beating hard in his chest. Roy followed close behind him, muttering curses under his breath, but Gilbert had no mind to pay to anything save the overriding desire to make sure Anne was okay.

The sight which met his eyes when he reached the end of his short journey made the blood in his veins turn icy cold.

Anne was seated on the sofa in the centre of the room, her hair dishevelled, her eyes blurry, and the buttons of the bodice of her dress undone, revealing the white fabric of her corset and an expanse of flushed skin. There was an empty wine bottle on the small table in front of her, as well as two large glasses.

When her eyes met Gilbert’s unbelieving stare, she turned momentarily stone sober; she sat abruptly up, all the blood draining from her face. At the same moment, Roy reached the room.

‘As you can see, you’re interrupting us,’ he began irritably. ‘So, if you’ve satisfied yourself as to the whereabouts of your _friend_ , please--‘

With a swift, furious movement Gilbert caught Gardner by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him backwards into the wall. Years of physical labour had given his muscles strength which could hardly be divined from his tall, lean frame, and the merciless force of his attack took Roy completely by surprise.

 ‘You bastard,’ he hissed, his insides writhing with murderous hate. ‘You disgusting bastard. How dare you take advantage of a girl like that-- how dare you--‘

With every word Gilbert uttered, his hold on Roy’s throat tightened, and the latter’s face was quickly becoming livid.

‘Gilbert, stop it!’ Anne’s voice, hoarse and slurred and altogether alien, reached him from behind. ‘Let him go!’

‘Tell him, Anne!’ squealed Gardner, gasping for breath. ‘Tell him you wanted this too!’

Gilbert’s mind went numb. Disregarding Anne’s half-intelligible sobbing pleas, he tore the limp body of the other man away from the wall and fairly hurled him onto the tiled hall floor.

‘I’ll kill you, Gardner,’ he said quietly, approaching the other’s cowering form. ‘Try this one more time, and I swear I’ll kill you. I’d do it now, only I don’t fight with inebriates. And now,’ he added, pulling Roy roughly to his feet and dragging him towards the front door, ‘get out of here and don’t ever come near Anne again. Ever.’

He pushed Roy out into the outer hall, making his stumble into the railings which ran around the staircase with a yelp. Then he shut the door closed and, his brain reeling, his heart thumping, and his ears filled with ominous buzzing, turned to confront Anne.

She stood trembling, with both her hands pressed to her mouth and tears falling silently down her cheeks. Gilbert, unaware that anger was practically radiating off him, took a step in her direction, and she responded by taking an uncertain step back and fairly tumbling into the wall.

In her tousled, alcohol-induced confusion Anne made a helpless, piteous picture, but all Gilbert could think about was the fact that she had been so silly and unreasonable as to let Gardner into her house and allow him to feed her alcohol until she was barely aware of what was happening.

‘ _Damn it_ , Anne!’ he exploded in a harsher, louder voice than he had ever used to her before. ‘What have you been thinking, letting that scoundrel get you drunk and do whatever in hell it was that he’d planned to do to you?’

His words seemed to incite a spark of resistance in Anne’s bewildered mind. Supporting herself with a hand placed against the wall, she stood up more or less straight and said haughtily, her voice jarringly tinny,

‘It’s my business what and with whom I choose to do. You had no right to tell barge in on us like this and spoil-- spoil--‘ she paused, to all appearances losing her thread as her eyes lost some more of their focus.

‘Spoil _what_?’ demanded Gilbert jeeringly. ‘How do you think this would have ended? Look at yourself!’ His gaze, black and scorching with rage, swept over the bare skin above her corset, a deep blush suffusing it as he did so.

‘It’s none of your business!’ reiterated Anne, beginning to cry a little again in both anger and mortification, her precarious control on her emotions and her common sense slipping rapidly. ‘You’ve rejected me, so now you have no right to go blaming other people if they want to--‘

‘Use you?’ put in Gilbert with cruel directness. ‘Rape you? Are you crazy, Anne? Do you think he would have just left without trying to have his way with you? And he _would_ have had it, too, seeing the state he’s managed to get you into!’

Throughout this speech, Anne’s face had been getting ashen pale, and now, doubling over, she vomited violently onto the floor at her feet. As Gilbert watched her crouch down, shaken with both sobs and retching simultaneously and fairly choking, the white, blinding rage finally began to loosen its hold on his faculties. Gingerly, he stepped over the mess she’d made on the floor and, gently taking hold of her arm, helped her slowly to her feet.

‘Are you able to walk a few steps?’ he asked, his voice much quieter than a moment before.

Anne’s teeth were chattering so hard she couldn’t answer, but she nodded a little and, without looking up, let him half carry her to the small kitchen to the left of the hall. Once there, Gilbert made her sit down in the nearest chair and, filling a glass with clear cold water from a kettle that stood on the stove, handed it to her.

Her hands were shaking even more than her teeth, and he had to help her keep the glass steady as she drank from it.

‘Better?’ he asked as she’d drained the last few drops. ‘Do you want more?’

‘Not right now,’ she managed in a hoarse whisper. ‘My head-- Something’s happened to it. It aches so much I can’t bear it. I think something’s split inside it,’ she begun to cry again, quietly and helplessly like a child. ‘Help me, Gil. I think I’m going to die.’

‘You’re not going to do anything of the kind, silly,’ Gilbert replied with forced calm, feeling genuinely alarmed, but telling himself that this was probably just the effect of a copious amount of alcohol on an organism both delicate and completely unused to it. ‘You just need to get out of these clothes and then I’ll help you get to bed, and when you wake up tomorrow you’ll feel perfectly fine.’ He was speaking slowly and soothingly now, as he would to any frightened patient. ‘Let’s go and get you something to change into, all right?’

Again, Anne nodded wordlessly and attempted to stand up, which ended in her losing her balance and clutching at Gilbert’s shirt to keep herself from tumbling to the floor.

‘Easy,’ he said, steering her gently with his arm around her waist out of the kitchen and towards the room opposite that was her bedroom.

Once in it, Anne, who seemed to be getting more muddle-headed by the moment, looked helplessly round and made no objection to Gilbert’s seating her down on the narrow bed that stood by the wall.

‘Where do you keep your nightclothes?’ he asked, clear and direct. She understood and gestured wearily towards the top drawer of a dresser to his right. He opened it and took out the topmost nightgown, a simple, white cotton affair.

‘Do you think you can manage to change by yourself?’ he asked, more for formality’s sake than in the hope of receiving an answer in the affirmative, since Anne was sitting listless as a rag doll, staring at him with eyes that were feverishly bright and half-unseeing.

‘I--‘ she began, and then looked down at her hands as though wondering if they would obey her if she tried to accomplish the difficult task of taking off all the cumbersome pieces of clothing she was wearing. ‘I don’t know. I feel so terribly weak and sleepy.’

‘It’s okay,’ Gilbert put in quickly, coming up to her. ‘I’ll help you. I have to do it all the time at the hospital, you know,’ he added in the hope of reassuring her that it was a matter of mere routine to him.

It was true that this was not the first time Gilbert had to assist a more or less helpless person in undressing, and since Anne, though by now in a state of unresponsive, semi-conscious daze (what _had_ Gardner laced that wine with, Gilbert wondered, clenching his jaw in impotent rage), was very slender and therefore easy to handle as far as making her get up or turn around went.

Soon she was left only in her chemise and drawers, but the situation was altogether too terrible for Gilbert to give any but the briefest consideration to its utter impropriety. Quickly and deftly, he pulled the nightgown down over her head, and then gently led her to a nearby chair.

‘Wait here and I’ll make the bed for you,’ he said, and she stared back at him with eyes that were like two lifeless pools of deadened gray. A sudden anguish contracted Gilbert’s heart and, before he could second-guess himself, he reached up to touch her pale cheek and asked in a desperate, choked voice, ‘What has he done to you, Anne?’

At that Anne shuddered a little, and her gaze became a little clearer. She knitted her brows, and Gilbert waited to see if she would say something, anything to let him know that she wasn’t as bad as she looked. However, after the brief moment of concentration her whole frame drooped again and, with a sigh, Gilbert left her and went over to the bed.

When he turned around she was once again watching him a little more intelligently than before, and he gave her an encouraging smile as he reached out a hand to help her to her feet. When she stood up and looked him directly in the eyes something in her face made him pause in his tracks.

‘Why don’t you love me anymore, Gil?’

Her voice as she asked this question sounded more normal than it had at any point during that gruesome evening, but instantly the words were out of her mouth, before Gilbert’s stupefied brain could form an answer, her face went blank again and she slouched against him, this time genuinely unconscious.  

A moment later she was lying safely in bed and, having made sure that her pulse was reasonably strong and she had no trouble breathing, Gilbert went out of the room to clean up the mess in the hall. Next, he heated up some water and put Anne’s discarded clothes in it to soak.

Then he came back to the room and, throwing himself down into the chair by the dresser, began his vigil by Anne’s bed.

She slept heavily and uninterruptedly, making Gilbert certain that there must have been something in the alcohol she’d drunk. It wasn’t possible that mere wine could have had such an effect on a grown-up woman. Gardner had drugged her with the intention of taking advantage of her; so much was clear.

The thought made him sick.


End file.
